


I See Good Things in Your Future

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, Fluff, Fortune Telling, Getting Together, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Sterek Secret Santa 2019, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21801523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: The "Fair of Mysticism" is in town, and Madam Sabina insists on giving Stiles and Derek a psychic reading. Together.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 9
Kudos: 110
Collections: The Sterek Secret Santa - Edition 2019





	I See Good Things in Your Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serenelystrange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenelystrange/gifts).



> I hope this is fluffy enough to make your Christmas a tiny bit merrier.

"Madam Sabina," Stiles read as he touched the purple sequined cloth and feathers that hung around the entrance to the tent. All of the tables and tents at the fairgrounds were flashy and colorful, the stereotypical trappings of fortune tellers and soothsayers. But Madam Sabina's tent was larger than most, adorned in shiny purple, gold and green. "Five bucks says she's a Susie from the suburbs."

Derek grunted. "With a ridiculous fake accent."

"Guaranteed." He and Derek had spent the last hour wandering around the "Fair of Mysticism" to make sure that self-proclaimed psychic and problem-solver Tristan Voyles had cleared out. Tristan convinced people to pay him money for their "fortunes" then conned them out of more money to intervene on their behalf and prevent the horrible things he'd predicted from coming true. He'd told one of the clerks at the police department she’d be killed in a five-car pile-up, and managed to weasel a thousand dollars out of her to stop it by the time she'd stumbled, dazed, out of his tent.

The clerk hadn't realized she'd been duped until hours later. Stiles' dad mentioned it over dinner the night before, baffled that such a smart and sensible woman could be so naive as to throw her money away like that. Scott was working late, so Stiles and Derek had gone alone.

As soon as they'd walked into Tristan's tent, Stiles knew he wasn't human, not completely. He wasn't cheating people by simply being great at cold reading and running a scam. He had some supernatural help in persuading people to believe him. Supernatural help that apparently didn't work on werewolves.

Stiles chuckled, remembering the shock on Tristan's face when Derek had yanked him up by his shirt, flashed his eyes, and predicted that his life would be cut short in a violent and bloody way if he didn't leave town. Derek's gray Henley had stretched tight around his biceps and across his chest, and his black jeans had been as snug as the ones he wore today. _Damn, he looks good when he's threatening people. Or when he's not. Always, pretty much._

"What's so funny?" Derek turned his back on the sparkly tent, and half turned it on Stiles. 

Things had been awkward between them today, no doubt because of what happened after they'd left the fair last night. Stiles couldn't remember the last time they'd been so tense around each other, and he hated every second of it. "Just thinking about you putting the fear into Voyles."

"He seems to have left."

"Anybody in their right mind would leave after you threatened them."

Derek's mouth moved, almost as if he started to smile then remembered he shouldn't. "No point in hanging around here, then."

"Nope. Unless you want to get your fortune told."

Derek glared at him. "Surely you don’t believe in that."

Stiles laughed. "Didn't believe in werewolves once upon a time, either."

"Different."

"Is it? So werewolves and every other type of monster can exist, but a person can't get a flash of something that's going to happen?"

Derek sighed. "You think people gifted with psychic abilities would be traveling around telling fortunes at places like this, fifty bucks a pop?"

Stiles held his gaze longer than necessary, hoping to get a smile, or a smirk. A frown, even. Anything but the bland expression he'd worn since they'd arrived. It didn't work. "Fair point. I guess not."

"Not a fair point." A husky voice came from behind them--a woman's voice, with no accent to speak of. "I charge a hundred and fifty, and I'm worth it."

Madam Sabina stepped out of her tent and grinned at them. Her black hair hung in waves over her shoulders, and her tinted glasses gave her pale eyes a yellow cast. Her dress, more like a long-sleeved robe, matched the purple shiny fabric that decorated her tent. 

_Crap, did she hear me talking about werewolves?_

"But for you two skeptics, just this once, on the house." She gestured toward the inside of her tent.

Derek turned to walk away. "No thank you. We're leaving."

"I insist. You've insulted me and my entire profession. The least you could do is let me dissuade you from that terribly negative assessment, for free. Besides, you got rid of that charlatan Voyles, so consider it a thank you gift as well. If you like my reading, tell your friends. If you still think I'm full of it, you can tell them all that Madam Sabina's a fraud. With my blessing."

Derek's jaw set, so they were probably in for a standoff. Stiles tapped Derek's arm with the back of his hand. "What's the harm?"

"Seriously?" Derek's eyebrows gathered together, but his eyes widened. 

"If she's fake, like you said, then she can't possibly know _things_ , right?" Even if she did know he was a werewolf, who would seriously believe it coming from a traveling psychic? Who would she tell? 

Stiles didn't have any particular interest in getting his fortune told, but it would be more uncomfortable to walk away now than to go in and get it over with. And at least it’d mean more time with Derek. Maybe more of a chance for things to smooth out between them. 

Stiles jerked his head toward the tent and raised his eyebrows. "Either you'll still be a skeptic when she's done, or you won't. Come on."

Stiles walked into the tent. A few seconds later, Derek followed.

The inside was as dramatic with purples, golds and greens as the outside, with what appeared to be a card table covered in black velvet in the center. The chairs, however, were your standard metal folding variety. He and Derek sat, and Madam Sabina stood on the other side. 

"What'll it be, boys? Crystal ball, tarot cards, tea leaves, runes?"

"Shouldn't a psychic be able to work without props?" Derek spoke the sentence in a monotone which sounded calm and casual to most people, but Stiles read it as irritated as hell.

"Dear boy, they're not props, they're tools. Would you ask a police officer to leave his gun at home because it's a prop?" She sat and waved a hand toward Stiles. "Someone you love? Would you ask your . . . brother? No, _father_ , a sheriff, to leave his badge, gun, handcuffs at home? Of course not."

She laced her fingers together on the tabletop and slowly grinned.

"I’ll bite. How did you know that?" Stiles asked. 

"Come on, Stiles," Derek said. "She obviously overheard me say your name yesterday or today and did a little research. She knows we ran Voyles out. She's prepared."

Stiles felt foolish, but it still seemed improbable. "You never call me by my last name."

Derek shot him a dark look. "If she overheard your first, it would be a matter of time before she asked someone familiar with you. How many people called Stiles live in Beacon Hills?"

He had another excellent point. Madam Sabina continued to smile.

"Hands, please." 

Stiles gave her his right and Derek, reluctantly, gave her his left. Their arms brushed, and the slight flinch from Derek reminded Stiles that things weren't okay between them. It'd pass, he hoped, but it would suck until then. 

"Now, let me see." She turned their hands palm up and held them closely enough they touched. 

Derek pulled his away. "Read Stiles' palm first, since he seems to be into this."

"I should read you together."

"One at a time is fine," he insisted. 

"Your lives are intertwined, so what affects one, affects the other. More than you know," she added cryptically, but gave up trying to get Derek to give his hand back. "I sense a disturbance."

Stiles caught Derek's eyeroll, but hadn't needed to see it to know it would happen. Even Stiles cringed at such a clichéd line. 

"What kind of disturbance?" Stiles asked in an effort to make up for Derek's attitude. "A disturbance . . . in the force?" His broad smile faded as neither Sabina nor Derek appreciated his joke. 

"Between the two of you," she said. "Seems like--"

"We argue all the time," Derek said, his words clipped. "We needle each other. Always have. Doesn't mean anything's wrong."

Stiles stared at him, surprised how defensive he sounded. 

"It's not an argument between you. It's something else." Sabina stroked a fingertip down Stiles' palm. He resisted the urge to pull it away. "Yesterday," she said with a nod. "You were alone together, and--"

"Okay." Derek stood. "Thanks for the entertainment, but we have things to do." He tapped Stiles' shoulder, but Stiles was fascinated that Sabina seemed to have picked up on the tension between them. It didn't make her psychic, maybe she'd noticed them yesterday and sensed something was different now, but he wanted to hear what she had to say. And it was free.

"Go on." Stiles waved a hand toward the front of the tent. "I'll be out in a minute."

Derek set his jaw and turned, but before he could take a step, Sabina grunted. "Why didn't you kiss him?"

Stiles' breath caught in his throat. 

Derek froze. "What?"

"You wanted to. Had for a long time. And he wanted you to just as badly. So why didn't you?"

Stiles pulled his hand back and dropped it into his lap. "What--I--you--"

"I told you psychics were fake, Stiles." Derek still hadn't moved, and spoke without looking at either of them. "They poke around until they hit something that gets to you, and they rope you in."

Sabina laughed. "Oh my. If only I were so crafty." 

"Do you . . . does that . . . get to you?" Stiles turned in his chair, because it was too hard to judge Derek's face out of the corner of his eye. 

"It does." Sabina crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "And the awkwardness between you won't go away until he admits it."

Derek faced her and spoke while barely moving his lips. "Thanks for the free reading. Stiles, let's go." 

"But that was only a dab of the past," Sabina said. "I'm more interested in predicting the future. And I predict--"

" _Stiles_ ," Derek said. An order not to be argued with. He left without a backward glance. 

"Don't mind him, Stiles. I embarrassed him. And you. Sorry about that."

"Yeah. You did." Stiles was pretty sure Derek wasn't just embarrassed, but angry. 

"You're going to sit there for a minute to show him he can't bark at you and expect you to jump, I'm guessing? And you're curious."

"Something like that." Stiles chuckled, more embarrassed that he wanted to hear her out than at what she’d said. "You're pretty good at this, after all."

"So people tell me." She leaned back in her chair and laced her fingers together. "Your future remains intertwined with his. In fact, you'll be even more important to each other than you are now."

"He . . . really almost kissed me? I thought that was what happened, but then I thought maybe I'd imagined it."

"You knew in your heart, deep down, that you didn’t imagine it. And now he knows that you know. You're welcome." She motioned toward the front. "You should go. He won't leave without you, even though you came separately, but the longer you're in here, the more anxious he gets."

"I--thank you? I think. It's been interesting."

"Tell all your friends."

Stiles stopped at the doorway. "You said you're all about predicting the future. So, is he going to--"

"No." Sabina shuffled Tarot cards and grinned at him. "Not if you kiss him first."

Stiles laughed, his face warming, and stared out of the tent for a few seconds to regain his composure. Derek wasn't right outside, but after a few minutes of walking up and down the midway, Stiles spotted him. He stood at the edge of the grass and the gravel parking lot, arms crossed, the sourest, sour-wolfiest look on his face. 

"You ready?" Derek said when Stiles was still twenty feet away.

"Yep." Stiles swallowed hard and walked straight past Derek toward where his Jeep was parked next to Derek's car. "Too bad it's not more like a county fair. I could go for a corn dog and a funnel cake right about now."

Ordinarily, they would have ridden there together. Last night, Derek had picked him up. After he'd threatened Tristan, with both of them in a good mood about how easy it had been to get rid of him, they'd picked up food and gone back to the loft. Stiles had eaten dinner already, but he got a piece of pie and some fries. He never turned down free food. Or Derek's company.

After they ate, they sat on the couch together, dozens of printed pages of Stiles' bestiary research spread across both their laps. The two of them alone, doing research, occasionally watching a movie while taking a break, had become commonplace over the last several months as Scott's job with Deaton took more of his time. Sometimes they spent hours hammering out the details about ancient creatures they would probably never encounter if they lived a hundred lifetimes.

Last night, they'd been debating whether not a venomous Yllsargin could actually reproduce with a human as some of the old text snippets claimed. Derek actually laughed at the gymnastics Stiles imagined might be necessary to make it happen, considering the creature's unusual anatomy. They kept reaching for the same piece of paper at the same time, their hands bumping, and when it happened for the fifth or sixth time, Stiles realized how tense Derek had become. Derek didn't sigh, but he inhaled sharply enough that Stiles said _sorry_ and started to scoot away. 

Derek grabbed his arm. "No. You're fine."

"I can tell you're annoyed. I'll take a stack over here, it's no problem."

"I'm not annoyed. That's not . . . I'm sorry."

Sorry wasn't something Derek said often, and the strange seriousness of it prompted Stiles to try to lighten the mood. "Then what is it? Something in here bothering you, big guy? Uncomfortable talking about Yllsargin sexual exploits or something?"

Derek should have smirked or snorted, or shoved Stiles away from him with a frown. But Derek had leaned closer, and was almost close enough that Stiles' eyes would have crossed if he'd tried to focus on his face. 

"No," Derek said softly, still inching forward. 

"Oh," Stiles breathed, a surge of adrenaline, a surge of something, rushing through him. Derek licked his lips. Stiles held his breath and leaned in.

Then Derek stopped, cleared his throat and leaned back. He picked up the papers in his lap and tapped them on the coffee table to straighten them. "It's nothing. Just thinking about Voyles, and how it's too bad we can't get the money back he cheated people out of."

As quickly as the excitement had hit Stiles, the disappointment rushed in to take its place. His face heated up with the private embarrassment of being so wrong about what was happening. 

Derek got up and found a spot in the kitchen, quickly washing up the couple of forks they'd used, leaving Stiles to wonder if he was losing his mind. Their noses had almost brushed--surely it had started out as a kiss Derek didn't go through with for some reason. Or Stiles' wishful thinking had gotten completely out of hand.

Stiles stood next to him with so many things he could say running through his mind. _Why did you stop_ ? at the top of the list. _Why for the love of everything holy in this lifetime and the next did you stop?_

Instead, he said, "Need any help?"

"I got it."

"I can dry and put away." He stood close enough their shoulders brushed. 

Derek glanced at the few forks in the drainer and then at Stiles, a half-smile on his face. “I don’t know. That’s a lot of work.”

Stiles lifted one shoulder and chuckled. For just a second everything seemed normal. Then Derek stepped away. "I'll give you a ride home."

Once they were in the car, Derek clicked the radio on. Not so loudly they couldn't talk over it, but enough to make it clear he didn't intend to discuss anything that happened. Maybe there really was nothing to discuss. Derek had zoned out thinking about one monster or another and hadn't realized he was leaning close, and snapped back when it dawned on him. No near-kiss at all. 

Stiles had nearly convinced himself of that until Madam Sabina's reading. 

Maybe it was all coincidence and she was a crank who liked to meddle in people's relationships. But something had been different today, and Stiles didn't want that to continue. Couldn't let it.

Instead of passing Derek's car to get to his Jeep, Stiles got between Derek and his driver's door to keep him from hopping in and disappearing. He put his hands on his hips, not knowing what he would say until he said it. When Derek stood in front of him, he couldn’t get a sound out. Why was this so hard?

"What, Stiles?" Derek asked and dropped his shoulders like not being able to get into his car was ruining his life.

"You didn't answer me earlier,” Stiles finally managed. “What she said, did it get to you? When she asked why you didn't--"

"I know what she said." 

"Well? I've got nowhere to be, so I'm not moving until you answer me."

Derek tilted his head to the side. "I'm telling you, Stiles, you can't let yourself get sucked in by the Sabina's of this world."

It was Stiles' turn to get annoyed. "That's not an answer." 

"You think it applied, so clearly she got to _you_."

Stiles swallowed hard, a second from leaping directly over the top of Derek's car with the sheer force of his embarrassment and zooming away. The only thing that kept him standing his ground was that he'd asked a yes or no question that Derek still hadn't answered. That, and how awful it would be if letting all this go meant that the tension between them would get worse. 

Stiles crossed his arms. "She got to me a little. I'll admit it. And you still haven't answered my question. Let me rephrase." He took a deep breath, hoping the next minute didn't humiliate him badly enough to ruin everything. "Did you nearly kiss me last night, or not?"

With more confidence than Stiles felt, he added, "It's a pretty simple yes or no."

Derek looked to the side, like he might be searching for a face in the crowd of people milling between the tents. "Does it matter?"

A noise bubbled up out of Stiles, a cross between a laugh and a shout. He waved his hands as he talked. "First, that wasn't a yes or a no. Second . . . of course it matters!"

Derek faced him, and when their gazes locked, Stiles stepped forward. "Stop answering my questions with questions. Did you almost kiss me?"

"Yes."

Stiles hadn't expected a straight answer he didn't have to wrestle out of him. His muscles felt warm and loose as he stepped as close as possible. "So why’d you stop?"

"Your scent changed, and I worried I’d be pushing you into something you weren’t ready to do.”

Good god, could that be all it was? That Derek worried he’d be taking a choice away from him? "I was nervous!" 

Derek pursed his lips, then exhaled slowly. "I know you were. Maybe because you didn't really want me to. You used to be afraid of me.”

“No I wasn’t.” 

Derek smirked. 

“Okay, I was, a little. But that was years ago. I’m not afraid of you now."

“I know, but I worried there might be a lingering sense of it. Enough that you’d let me kiss you even if you didn’t want me to.” Derek frowned and pressed his lips together, the corners of his mouth pulled down. 

“Derek, I argue with you every chance I get. I contradict you all the time. You were going to put anchovies on our pizza a few weeks ago, for God’s sake. I didn’t sit back and let you do that, did I?”

“We weren’t alone. Sitting that close.” Derek’s looked into Stiles’ eyes. “It’s different.”

Stiles' heart ached a little at the certainty in Derek's eyes and how careful he'd been, how concerned. As Sabina's last words to him ran through his mind, he put his hands near Derek's hips, gripping his shirt, moving slowly enough to give Derek time to stop him if he wanted to and hoping the trembling inside him didn't show. “You’re right. It is.”

He brushed their lips together, catching Derek's bottom lip between his in a move that felt as natural as breathing. 

Derek's body relaxed against him. A warm hand cupped his face, so he slid his arms around Derek’s waist. "I was ready," he said, still brushing Derek's lips. “I do want you to kiss me.”

"I see that now."

"I really wanted you to last night."

"I’m getting that, Stiles."

"I was nervous because I'd wanted that for a long time, and I haven't exactly racked up hours of kissing experience."

"I can change that, if you'd stop talking." Derek kissed him this time, their mouths slightly open, lips dragging together. He pulled Stiles tight against him with an arm around his waist. 

A husky shout carried to them from the direction they'd come. "Be sure and tell your friends I'm the real deal!" Madam Sabina waved both hands at them, turned and disappeared into the crowd. Her laugh seemed to continue on. They looked at each other, eyebrows raised, then Derek walked Stiles carefully around his car, kissing him the entire way, until Stiles’ back bumped against the door of his Jeep. 

Derek's tongue slicked Stiles lips, then slipped between them. Stiles twisted his fingers in the back of Derek's shirt.

"Let's go," Derek breathed. "We should probably do some more research."

"Yeah. Research. Monsters and . . . stuff." He stole one more kiss, then got into the Jeep. 

As Derek walked to the driver's side of his car, Stiles rolled down his window. "So you have to admit, Sabina, maybe just a little psychic? I see how she could have found out my dad was the sheriff, but unless she's got a second career spying in loft windows, there's no way she could have known. Right?"

"Could have been a lucky guess." Derek shrugged one shoulder. He laughed when Stiles' mouth dropped open, then his expression went soft in a way Stiles rarely got to see. "Lucky for me,” Derek said. 

Warmth spread across Stiles' chest, down his stomach, as Derek stared into his eyes. He didn't want the moment to end or to ever forget the weight of it, the way it made him aware of his skin and the blood pumping through his veins and _god, his heart_.

"Lucky for us," Stiles said, his voice rough.

Derek's expression shifted again, still soft, affectionate, but more intense. "Yeah. Lucky for us." After a few seconds, he said, "Follow me to the loft?"

"That's the plan. Though the way I feel right now, I might pass you and break some speed limit laws to get there."

"You probably shouldn't do that. I don't think your dad would like it."

"Okay, but don't drive like a grandma." Stiles laughed at the smirk he got for that. "What? Ever since you got rid of the Camaro, sometimes you drive scary slow. People pass you and expect to see a little old lady barely tall enough to see through the steering wheel."

Derek dropped into the seat and backed out. Stiles followed, barely able to contain himself. He and Derek had kissed. Stiles’ attraction, his feelings, hadn’t been one-sided. He laughed to himself and smiled at nothing, and probably looked like a maniac to anyone who noticed this person alone in his Jeep, giddy. 

He’d only been drunk a couple of times when he and Scott had felt rebellious and dipped into his dad’s stash. His head had felt full of air, lighter than the rest of him, his mind floaty and certain that everything was going to work out no matter what. 

This buzz beat the hell out of that. 

Derek drove slowly enough, staring into the rearview mirror, that the speedometer barely registered that the Jeep was moving. 

_We argue all the time_ , Derek had said to Sabina. _We needle each other. Always have. Doesn't mean anything's wrong._

Stiles deliberately and slowly said the word _grandma_ to make sure Derek could see it, his pulse kicking up a notch when Derek laughed and actually got them close to the speed limit. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, a lightness inside him now that things between them were back to easy. This new layer of their relationship felt like something Stiles had been waiting for, something expected and natural. It felt _right_.

And once they reached the loft and Stiles could kiss him again, things would be even better than that.

  
  



End file.
